An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: Episode Two
by Chippewa Livingston
Summary: A quick and easy job gets complicated for two runaway X-5s. Will new lies be able to cover the naked truth? The reasons for PG-13 include: non-sexual nudity, violence and general anti-social activity. Chapter 29!
1. Easy money

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.

Author: Chippewa Livingston

Archive: Please ask

Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.

Summary:  A quick and easy job gets complicated.  Will new lies be able to cover the naked truth?

Chapter 1.  Easy money.

It was late on a Thursday afternoon.  Red and I had been less busy than usual.  He amused himself by watching me try to lay down a neat, even line of weld metal on a scrap of steel plate.

It wasn't as easy as Red made it look.  The dark glass of the protective mask makes you totally blind until the arc starts, but you can't start the arc without beginning to weld.    He laughed at the ragged line of weld spatter that I tracked across the plate.  Then he sent me home with the repair manual for the welder. 

***

The quickest way home was through several streets of small shops.  As usual, there weren't many people shopping for antiques, candles, or carved wooden statues of animals.

I glanced at the reflection of the street in the window of a dark and empty storefront.  Someone looked familiar.  The baseball cap wasn't, but I thought that maybe I had seen that face, in profile.   He was just an ordinary, middle aged man.

I was a transgenic soldier, and trained to be suspicious.  

_Not a soldier anymore,_ I reminded myself.  I strolled casually into the next shop, and pretended to study a bulletin board, and the announcements tacked to it.  Some of the pieces of paper were hand-written by someone looking for a room mate, or maybe a ride out of town.  There was a guitar for sale, a missing dog, and an "old-tyme revival" at the Church of Sunny Weather.  

On the other side of the glass door, the man with the baseball cap continued down the street like nothing had happened.   Either he wasn't following me, or he noticed that I noticed.   I guessed that I was going to be suspicious anyway.

"Artist model wanted for small drawing class.  Two hours on Thursday evenings. Call Judy."  The little cut tabs of phone numbers had all been torn off.  I wondered what sort of job that was.

"Are you interested?" asked someone, just behind my shoulder.

"Pardon?"  I turned to look down at a cheerful, dark-eyed woman.  

"Sorry.  I'm Judy Sherwood."  She smiled and shifted a multi-colored cloth tote bag to her left hand.  "The class is in an hour and a half.  My friend Marty was going to pose, but has to work late instead."

"It isn't a job I've ever done!"  I let her shake my hand.  She seemed pretty insistent about it.  "Besides, you haven't mentioned a rate."

"It's easy if you aren't self-conscious, although there are some people who can't hold still long enough."   Streaks of grey emphasized the straight, un-styled length of her hair.

"Uh, just one stupid question, Judy.  Are you paying?  Or just looking for a volunteer?"

"Oh, yes." One corner of her mouth twitched.  "$50, cash, if you sit for a two-hour class.  I forgot your name already, young man."

"Jack."  I decided that I hadn't committed myself to anything yet.  "Would it be nosy to ask how many students?"

"Twelve, if they all show up.  You know, some kids get the idea that being artistic means you don't have to keep a schedule."

"I wouldn't know about the artistic thing, Judy."  I made a quick decision.  She was offering good money for two hours of something that didn't sound strenuous at all.  "If those are the terms, I think I can help you out."

Her mouth twitched again.  "You forgot to ask a really important question, Jack.  What you really need to know, is that I teach a class that emphasizes drawing the human figure.  Are you willing to pose nude?"

_Well, why not? My hair covers the bar code. _  "Okay, I think I can deal with that."

"Great.  We are using a classroom in the school on South Oak Drive.  Do you know where that is?"

Five minutes later, I was at a pay phone.  "Roxanne" would still be at work, and I'd be able to warn her that I would be home late.


	2. Artistic Taste

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
    
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
Archive: Please ask  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
   
Summary:  A quick and easy job gets complicated.  Will new lies be able to cover the naked truth?  
 Chapter 2: Artistic Taste  
"Roxanne!" No less than three voices shouted my name at the same time. One of them was Sven and since he deals out the money around here he gets priority. The cracked voice of the sixty-something- year- old short order cook rose again from the kitchen.   
I pushed through the kitchen door bearing my tray like a shield against the protesting voices of the customers. "I need three orders of fries and two cheese- steaks." Sven's weathered hands doled out meat and mushrooms which came with the sandwiches regardless of what my order indicated. I'd lost more than a few tips because of Sven's mushrooms but he was too stiff necked even for sweet little Roxie.   
"Mitzi stopped by earlier. I think she's worried about you. You oughta indulge her on this." He held out a hand and offered a slip of paper. It was one of those little tabs ripped off of fliers. The 'f' was missing but it would have read 'free clinic for expectant mothers'. Then there was a phone number and the phrase 'No Questions'.   
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not so fond of doctors."  
"I know honey, I'm right there with you. But you should go, just have things checked out." Sven expertly stirred the meat as it was beginning to crisp. "There's a young man for you on the phone." He said eventually and I wondered just how long that 'young man' had been kept waiting.  
I crossed the small kitchen to the red handled phone. "Talk. I've got customers." I said, all the while smiling Roxanne's smile.  
"I'm going to be home late. Quick cash opportunity." He sounded so ready to leave it at that that I didn't hang up.  
"Who do you have to kill?" I joked.  
"No one." He sounded a little too strained. "It's just an art thing. This woman offered me the job on the street today."  
On the street. A thought occurred to me. "So do you get to keep your clothes on?" I was fairly sure I already knew the answer.   
"No." He said honestly which did a little to stem the irrational surge of jealousy… but not much.   
"So…who are the students?"  
"I have no idea."  
"Well they better be a bunch of wrinkly old ladies." It didn't come out as light as I had hoped.  
He laughed uneasily. "I'll see you later."  
I hung up. "Trouble in paradise?" Sven quipped.  
"Never." I said, my facial muscles beginning to cramp. The cacophony of voices from the dining area seemed to have adopted a mantra that sounded suspiciously like 'Roxanne'. I tucked the slip of paper into the only pocket in my dress and charged through the door hoping my worn tennis shoes would last another week. 


	3. The little old ladies

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston Archive: Please ask Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 3. The little old ladies  
  
I was at the school early enough to help Judy set up the classroom. There were no windows, and the fluorescent lights made sure that I got the full effect of the unpleasant green concrete block walls. The two of us moved a dozen 'chair with desk' things into a semicircle around a empty patch of vinyl tiled floor.  
  
"Another fifteen minutes 'till class," said Judy. "The boy's locker room is three doors down." She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a blue and white bundle.  
  
"Right."  
  
***  
  
Industrial green tile, and eight shower heads. Just like home. I wonder if the water heater works here.  
  
A hot shower almost had me convinced that this was a good idea. I stuck my damp hair against the back of my neck, and put on the blue and white cotton kimono that Judy had put in my hands.  
  
There was no one in the hall when I let the locker room door close behind me.  
  
I could hear Judy and a couple of students, their voices distorted by the echo of institutional walls. They went silent as I opened the door to the classroom.  
  
"Class, I'd like you to meet Jack."  
  
"Hi," I said. I counted twelve students. Exactly two were male. One of the women fell into the "little old lady" category. Individually, I couldn't consider any one of them a threat. As a group. . . I told myself not to think about that.  
  
"Are we ready to get started?" Judy asked her class, then made eye contact with me. She was standing with one hand on the back of a plain wooden chair that occupied the exact focus of the circle of chairs.  
  
"Let's go, then," I said. I reminded myself that following directions was probably more important than my skill in unarmed combat. At least right now.  
  
"Okay. Come over here, and sit down sideways on the chair." She backed away as I approached. "I'll take the robe."  
  
The wood was smooth and cool. The air in the room wasn't exactly warm, but I wasn't going to complain.  
  
"Now, turn and put your arms across the back of the chair." I twisted around, and faced green paint. "Stay relaxed. If you have to break position, don't worry about it."  
  
I nodded to the blank wall. This wasn't how I would prefer to sit, but I knew I could stay exactly here, perfectly motionless, for a long time.  
  
"Class, I want you to pay careful attention to the alignment of the vertebra, and the angles of the ribs." She paused for effect. "But, don't loose sight of the over all shape of the pose. You have fifteen minutes."  
  
I tried to let my mind go blank except for the sound of pencil against paper, and Judy's Birkenstocks as she paced back and forth behind her students.  
  
**  
  
"Time to unwind for a couple of minutes." She draped the kimono over my shoulder. "Class, do whatever final details you want, and be ready to start your next sketch."  
  
I untangled the kimono, and managed to wrap it around myself as I stood up. I knotted the sash firmly, and decided to see what sort art had been generated.  
  
In general, it wasn't flattering. As Judy had suggested, her students had concentrated on the geometry of my skeleton, and the twist in my backbone between hips and shoulders.  
  
The 'little old lady' tucked her pencil behind her ear, and turned her sketch pad so I could see it. I rather liked her sketch. She'd managed to suggest that I had some muscle and skin, instead of just ribs and shoulder blades.  
  
"I want a man like you around the house to help me move some furniture."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Just the bed, actually."  
  
"Are you really up for that? Sounds pretty heavy."  
  
She winked. "I like where the bed is, young man. I just want to move it up and down some."  
  
Roxanne is going to laugh her ass off, I thought.  
  
"Ready for the next one, Jack?" Judy interrupted.  
  
I stepped back into the ring, and handed over the kimono.  
  
"Now, we're going to do some quick stuff. Five minutes each." Her sandals tapped against the floor. "Try to capture the difference between relaxed muscles, and ones that are in use."  
  
I realized that I was standing with feet shoulder width apart, and my hands linked together behind me. Parade rest.  
  
"Jack, shift your weight onto your right leg, and pick up the chair with your right hand. Are you okay for five minutes?"  
  
****  
  
"That's it for now," said Judy. "I'm seeing a lot of really lively compositions."  
  
I took my foot off the chair, and let it rest with all four feet on the floor again. Judy tossed the kimono back to me, again.  
  
The young woman in the last chair leaned over to the man next to her, and whispered a comment on his sketch. He touched her hand to steady her paper while he looked at hers. I decided that they were probably a couple, and I guessed that they were young enough to be college students.  
  
She must have noticed me looking at her notebook. "Did you want to see?"  
  
"Sure," I said, as I straightened the knot in the sash, for the fourth time that evening.  
  
She flipped a few pages backwards in the book, and showed me her picture of me, sitting sideways on a wooden chair.  
  
"You've got a good eye for details of bone and muscle," I offered. "It almost looks like an anatomy illustration." She's also managed to do an exact picture of the big scar down my right knee, and several of the small ones, and the other one. . .  
  
"It should." She smiled. "Pre-med student. I was hoping to give my brain a break."  
  
"What happened to you?" asked her friend, pointing at the picture.  
  
**  
  
"Feeling OK?" asked the white-coated figure.  
  
I nodded, and she smiled. "You've got the strength and range of motion that you need to get around, so we are going to let you back to your barracks."  
  
Out? I'll be able to talk to Elle.  
  
"Now, just keep in mind -- the amount of damage is pretty close to getting hit by a car. You aren't going to have your usual energy levels for a while, and you aren't going to be doing any combat training either." She tapped her pen against the clipboard for emphasis.  
  
Oh, great. Not. Classroom stuff. Lots and lots of class time.  
  
"Another thing," she continues. "you are going to be doing physical therapy two hours a day to get your knee back the way it's supposed to be. And don't even think about running."  
  
**  
  
"Auto accident," I said abruptly.  
  
"I'm Nathan," he said. "Do you want to come to a party? My sister is in town, and we're getting some people together this evening."  
  
His friend elbowed him. "Asha said she didn't want a big deal."  
  
"It's not a big deal. Just people." He ran his fingers through strawberry blond hair.  
  
"Do you mind if I bring a friend?" 'Roxanne' needs to get out of that apartment, maybe she will cheer up. "A girlfriend?" 


	4. Public Relations

Author: Chippewa Livingston  
Archive: Please ask  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
An Unauthorized Genetics Experiment, episode two  
  
Chapter Four: Public Relations  
  
When 'Jack' called again Mitzi said I should just "get my own line already." It was dinner hour and the place was crawling- so was my skin. Everything seemed dirtier than usual and we probably already violated several health code restrictions.   
  
Jack wanted to know what time I got off and if I felt like going to a party. "A party?" I said, trying to clarify. "A room full of people that repeatedly ask the same prying questions- that kind of party?"  
  
"No," he responded patiently (they trained him much better in that area than me), "a small group of open minded, free spirited art students kind of party. Art students who probably have never eaten anything greasier than fried tofu."   
  
It was the set of grease-finger prints on the phone in my hand that convinced me.   
  
I got off an hour and about fifty trips to the kitchen later. Jack was waiting in the fourth floor apartment, ready with hot water for me to wash up. Nathan- the- art- student could keep his party, hot water was all I needed. But I already said I'd go so I changed and we were back down the fire escape in ten minutes.   
  
The address Jack had was for a townhouse at the edge of the sector. It wasn't particularly remarkable- white paint, now more gray than white and uneven front steps. But the skyline created from leftover house paint that adorned the front door insured us that we had the right place as did the music filtering through the walls. It wasn't anything that would attract unwanted attention but it was loud enough to my ears.   
  
'Jack' knocked on the door and a blonde woman answered. "Yeah?" She said suspiciously. "We don't want to buy any kind of insurance or girl scout cookies."  
  
She was about to shut the door when a voice called out, "Jack!" A young man and another woman appeared in the doorway. The woman glanced up and from that point on her eyes were glued to Jack's knee especially when he walked. She must be one of the little old ladies- I'd been quite concerned about his knee the first time I saw it too but then again it was worse than a few scars at the time.   
  
"Hey, Nathan." Jack greeted him and looked past the blonde who'd opened the door.   
  
"Invite the entire city?" She accused Nathan but it lacked any real venom.  
  
"N, just the intelligent life, cuts out 95% of the population." I wanted to ask just how Nathan decided Jack was intelligent by studying his anatomy for an hour, it was something the brains at Manticore would love to know, but I hadn't even been introduced so I decided not to start pissing people off yet.   
  
As if on cue, Jack said, "Nathan Roxanne, Roxanne Nathan." We learned that one in PR 101. Nathan smiled, he definitely had that 'I'm too in to art to shave' look.   
  
The blonde he introduced as Asha. "Another artist?" Jack asked even though I'm sure he noticed the well developed muscles of her arms and the calluses on hands- just right for a pistol- as I had   
  
"Yeah." Asha said quickly and her pupils dilated a millimeter.  
  
"Me too." I might as well perpetuate the bullshit now that it had started.   
  
The pair led us into something resembling a living room minus the furniture. "An artist, huh?" Jack asked quietly. "You know you don't have to go out of your way to lie."  
  
"It wasn't a lie, half the truth really. To hell with the illusions of three dimensions and the insights of surrealism," I said haughtily, "it takes a real artist to make the stuff at the diner appear edible."  
  
Neither of us got the chance to laugh though because someone abruptly turned up the volume on a news report and it immediately got our full attention. 


	5. Combat flashback

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston Archive: Please ask Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
5. Combat flashback  
  
We followed Nathan's red ponytail, and Asha's blonde bob. That's where we found everyone else. The TV in the living room wasn't state of the art, but the sound was clear.  
  
". . . the police spokesman said that many leads are being pursued in the fatal Friday night fire at a veteran's hospital in a remote area of the Rocky Mountains. Unofficial sources suggest that some of the more dramatic bursts of flame are the result of explosives."  
  
The picture switched from the well-groomed anchorwoman to a helicopter's eye view of burning buildings. Familiar burning buildings. I could just make out the fence at the edge of the trees.  
  
"In the three days since the fire, investigators have recovered an unknown number of charred bodies. . ."  
  
'Roxanne's' fingers were digging into my arm. Her grey eyes were fixed to the TV screen. I watched her lips move. "Could have been us."  
  
She was right. That place was the closest thing we had to home. Even if we were running away.  
  
". . . The FBI is asking that anyone having information that might lead to members of the S1W terrorist organization to call this number. . ."  
  
The TV went black. Asha dropped the remote control on the couch.  
  
"That's enough depressing stuff," she said. "If you want me to stay at my own party, you leave the news OFF!"  
  
"Those poor people," said Nathan's girlfriend. "That's just horrible."  
  
Asha glared at her. "I feel bad for them too, Mikah. But they are just as dead if you watch the news or not. Besides, they probably set fire to it themselves. Imagine all the money you save if you don't have to take care of sick people."  
  
"You have no compassion." Mikah got to her feet and shook the wrinkles out of her skirt. "I'm going to go check on the food."  
  
"Pray for the dead," said Asha to Mikah's back. "Fight for the living!"  
  
Nathan shrugged, and told me "That's my sister. She manages to get pacifists to fight with her."  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"What do you think, Roxanne?" Nathan smiled.  
  
"Me and politics don't get along," she said with a fake brainless smile and a toss of her curls. "I just get confused and change the channel to a nice movie. I'm much more interested in what Mikah has been cooking. It smells good!" She draped her coat over the back of a chair, and I got to watch her faded blue jeans disappear down the short hallway into the kitchen.  
  
"How about you, Jack?" Asha flopped into a big chair and put her cowboy boots on the coffee table. "Who do you think would bother to torch a hospital?"  
  
"I'd have more of an opinion if I watched any TV." I tried to think of something to say that wouldn't reveal Manticore, and the rest of my unit, in flames. "Aren't hospitals supposed to be a safe place?"  
  
"Me, I'd like to think so." She made a gesture of tossing something away. "What do you do for a living?"  
  
"Lifting and carrying." It was my turn to shrug. "Construction, but if I pick up a tool, I'd better be handing it to someone who is qualified to use it."  
  
"Did you grow up in a bad neighborhood?" She watched me intently. I glanced over at Nathan. He seemed to be trying to fade into the background.  
  
What? "Okay, I guess. It all seems normal while you are in it, you know?" Doesn't matter now, it's all gone up in smoke.  
  
"Micah is really good at capturing small details in her drawings, Jack. I'm trying to figure out why a nice guy like you managed to pick up that many scars."  
  
"Auto accident," I said, for the second time that day.  
  
"When?" asked Nathan suddenly. "Did it happen after dark?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." I wondered how I could make these people change the subject.  
  
"If I had to guess," offered Asha, "I'd say that someone with that set of marks has been shot, beaten, and had some reconstructive surgery done on one knee."  
  
**  
  
I took off my boots and socks, and took my keys and change out of my pockets. Quiet was good, and necessary. The hallway was still empty. I left the things in a pile under the pay telephone.  
  
It was a quick, quiet dash to the door *next to* the room I was interested in. Luck was with me. The door was unlocked, the room was empty, and there was a connecting door.  
  
I closed the door noiselessly behind me, and put my ear to the connecting door. Breathing, maybe six people.  
  
I turned the know, and swung the door open. A woman in a dark suit raised her hand as her expression shifted from boredom to surprise. "Look out!"  
  
I turned to look. Male, dark suit. He pivoted to swing a shotgun to point in my direction.  
  
The world was a very small place, with only three things in it. Me, a .45 pistol, and Mr. Shotgun.  
  
I made one good shot, chest level, before the tasers hit me.  
  
Sometimes, you need to scream.  
  
***  
  
"I think you are mistaken, Asha. One day, I'll have to tell you my life story." I tried to get breathing back under control. "Some other time."  
  
"Hey, leave him alone." Nathan stepped between us. "I didn't invite Jack so my sister could ask nosy questions."  
  
"Right," she said. "Let's go check on dinner." 


	6. Peace Talks

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston Archive: Please ask Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
6. Peace Talks   
  
Apparently I have superwoman strength and no superwoman tolerance to hormones. Maybe it's all the meddling Manticore did with evolution or maybe every female goes through this hell.   
  
Manticore with its hard surfaces and high fences was never really home. The people there made sure of it. They had a habit of moving us around changing the settings and conditions of our environment so we would not form attachments.   
  
My unit stayed the same though. I'd spent years learning to function as an appendage of the body that was my contingent. When the higher ups showed us off to foreign big shots it was always the way we performed flawlessly together, like we had the terrifying hive consciousness of the later generations, which impressed them. Afterwards, they could scarcely believe we were capable of individual thought.   
  
I knew everyone in my contingent, all their strengths and weaknesses. Still, I had always thought of myself as separate, something more than a number. Years of conditioning and training tried to dispel this dangerous path of thinking so I built a wall between myself and my fellows. It was a hard wall and crack free but somewhere along the line roots grew under my wall roots that had just been singed.  
  
Unable to deal with the irrational feelings of loss I followed Mikah to the kitchen. Or maybe it was my hormones again insisting that I eat my own body weight in food every day!   
  
Nathan's girlfriend was vigorously tossing the vegetables in a frying pan. A little too vigorously, they were flying out of the pan to scatter on the stove top. "Are you alright?" It was something Roxie would say.  
  
"Yes." More produce flew, some to the floor. "Asha just has this way of twisting everything!" If the vegetables weren't dead before Mikah was making a valiant attempt to remedy that. Arguing about pacifism made her awfully violent.  
  
"What happened to those people was terrible." How did this girl think her simpering and sighing helped the dead? Pacifists were all so eager to patiently wait out all the troubles of the world and let it all go to hell in the mean time. "Burning and all that. I've bet you've seen a lot of that in your hospital or whatever."  
  
She nodded gravely. "It's revolting. I don't understand how one human can do that to another."   
  
"I don't know." There are much worse things one being can do to another. There are unspeakable torments inflicted then overlooked because they ultimately benefit society. When the ends are power and wealth it doesn't matter much what the means were.  
  
"I just feel so awful for them and Asha…"  
  
If she said more I didn't hear. What did her sympathy matter? She didn't know who 'they' were or even what they were.   
  
Footsteps moved in the short hallway and the other three came in, crowding the kitchen. "We finished '20 Questions'," Nathan announced, "dinner ready?  
  
I didn't even want to think what dinner table conversation would like in this house. 


	7. Friend of a friend, or whatever

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston Archive: Please ask Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 7. Friend of a friend, or whatever  
  
Asha and her brother crowded into the kitchen with Mikah and Roxanne.  
  
Now was my chance. We'd entered the front door, without being sure of an escape route. I followed the little hallway to its end.  
  
The wooden door wasn't locked, and opened silently. The screen door behind it squeaked, and I looked down at concrete steps to the lawn. The small back yard was surrounded by weathered wooden fence, which we'd seen as we approached. I listened for just a moment, and identified two dogs in the next yard. No other signs of life. Rain was beginning to fall, so I let myself back inside.  
  
I got to the kitchen just as Nathan was leaving.  
  
I took the top plate off the stack of multi-colored ceramic dishes. It was a strange yellowish light green. I didn't care. Stir-fried vegetables, rice, some sort of curry, and two slices of bread hid the color.  
  
'Roxanne' looked up at me as I came into the dining room, and patted the chair next to her. No expression. She might as well have been back in a classroom at home.  
  
"You okay?" I whispered as I set down my plate.  
  
"Just hungry, that's all." She stabbed her fork into some harmless vegetable.  
  
Mikah and Nathan started a discussion about who wasn't here, and why. I glanced at Asha. She was being quiet, and carefully focused on her fork.  
  
***  
  
Maybe I was being stupid, but I was trying to calculate the odds. There were a dozen X-5s in our unit, and we were working out of Gillette, Wyoming, as of eight weeks ago. The two of us never went back.  
  
Lydecker probably sent out at least four Xs to find us. They wouldn't be from our unit, of course. Whoever they were, they would still be out here. I wondered if they would try to go back. Didn't matter. We got sent out on missions all the time. It was pretty certain that some of the soldiers we knew weren't at the spot marked "X" when the fire happened.  
  
I wondered why that didn't make me feel any better.  
  
***  
  
A movement caught my eye. Asha slid her chair back, and pulled something out of her pocket as she stood up. She frowned at the sleek, candy-colored Japanese phone, and pushed a button.  
  
"Excuse me for a couple of minutes," she muttered. "I need to make a call."  
  
"Anyway," continued Mikah, "Brun said she was working late trying to finalize the training program for those kids."  
  
"This is good," I interrupted, and held up half a slice of bread. "I'm going to get some more. Do you want anything?"  
  
'Roxanne' shook her head, and I walked through the kitchen, back into the hall. Quietly.  
  
Asha had her back to me, and the cell phone to her ear. "So, who are they?"  
  
"The picture from your phone is pretty crummy. This is going to take a while." A soft voice, from somewhere else. I had to listen hard.  
  
"Just tell me. Do I need to be worried?" She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.  
  
"They aren't federal agents, if that's what you mean. My search came back negative on that."  
  
"Yeah, but who are they, Logan?"  
  
"Asha, you came to the wrong boy if you wanted a miracle. Give me some time, okay?"  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."  
  
"I'll call you when I find something." The voice paused for a moment. "I've got something else you might be interested in. The architect of the things that burned just happens to have an office about an hour away from you."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"I know that breaking and entering isn't the smartest thing for you to be getting into, but we might be able to find out what that place was really built for."  
  
Asha turned slightly, and I ducked back into the kitchen.  
  
"Great. Give me the address." I heard the sound of pencil on paper.  
  
I grabbed the last slice of bread, and slid back into my seat.  
  
I tried to decide what to tell Roxanne. Asha was clearly *very* curious about the two of us. Which side was she on? Why was she interested in a burning "veteran's hospital" anyway? 


	8. guardian Angel

Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
8. Guardian Angel  
  
It was obvious that he was tailing Asha. To me anyway. So I took the only logical course of action. I did nothing. I could have jumped into the conversation of people I'd never heard of, distract the others, but to anyone with sense that would be strange, suspicious even. So I sat and ate mechanically. Chew swallow. Chew swallow. Smile when the texture indicated curry- Mikah's own recipe- though I hardly tasted it.   
  
It had nothing to do with my depressing bout of nostalgia, just biology. The five senses work together to form a map of the world for the brain. If one sensory organ is particularly active the data from the others fade like background noise. So things like room temperature and the mingled scents of the kitchen were below my notice. Enough of my attention was left over to keep my vision clear and all the rest was thrown in to listening. I was performing my duty as a soldier and that left no time for petty memories.   
  
I could hear his movements in the hallway, barely. Much louder was the rise and fall of Asha's voice in nonsensical patterns. Words would be up to him. It was my job to make sure he had the opportunity to return safely with those words. The voice was many decibels louder than the movements and when he came back to the room I knew he hadn't been discovered. The room shifted back into focus.  
  
In his hand was a thick slice of bread which he deposited on my plate. At some point I'd eaten most of the contents. "Here." Mikah smiled at the gesture and didn't stop her stream of words. "We have a guardian angel checking up on us."  
  
Guardian angel or grim reaper? That was the real question. Asha returned a moment later, replacing her phone and taking up her fork. But the shift in atmosphere was palpable, Asha was ready to bring this little party to a close. Nathan and Mikah talked less and ate more, whether they new it or not, there world revolved around Asha.   
  
When everyone was finished Asha waited a polite five minutes before announcing her need to leave. "Sure. You always have to go." Nathan said quietly.  
  
Asha gave him a hard look and walked out the front door, phone pressed to her ear. If she really was a new enemy at least she had the courtesy to leave us some hostages. The SWAT team wouldn't sweep in on us while we were with Nathan and Mikah.   
  
Mikah showed off a few of her sketches and some abstract stuff but the party atmosphere was officially dead. It let us leave quite early with ease and an awkward apology for Nathan. "Asha… she can really out the brakes on a good time."  
  
We reassured him and said good- bye. When we were a block away Jack started in on the facts. "She's suspicious but doesn't know anything yet- except that we're not Feds. But she knows something about Manticore or at least knows someone who does."  
  
"So what… we need to know if she's friend or foe."   
  
"Either way we keep her close."   
  
"And how do we manage that?"  
  
"We start with a little reconnaissance. We have an unknown quantity." He rattled off an address. "But at least we know where it is." 


	9. Blood and water

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston Archive: Please ask Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
9. Blood and water  
  
"But that's way out at the end of the bus line!" Roxanne informed me, as we dodged puddles the sidewalk, and the stray branches of un-pruned shrubbery. The light drizzle that I'd seen before dinner was getting heavier.  
  
I decided to shut my mouth and start thinking. An hour by car, probably 50 miles. Many hours on foot, or . . . what were cab rates around here, anyway? Other thoughts surfaced.  
  
"You don't have to come along," I pointed out.  
  
"Yes, I do." The street lights were turning her eyes weird colors, and the blue streaks in her wet hair looked green.  
  
"It only takes one of us." I held her wrist.  
  
She put her hand carefully over mine, and smoothly levered my arm behind my back. "I'm not going to loose track of the rest of my unit!" she whispered, and twisted a little harder. Not trying to hurt me, just wants me to know she means business.  
  
"But . . ."  
  
"Get one thing straight, test-tube baby! No place is safe for me right now. Or you." A whisper meant only for transgenic ears. "If something happens, I want to know."  
  
"Nothing is going to happen." Somebody's famous last words, probably.  
  
"Then you don't have a problem with me coming a long." She let me have my arm back, and showed her teeth. "Family sticks together, like they taught us."  
  
"Uh." If I argued, the bloodshed was going to start right now. Real family didn't fight like this, did they? Asha and Nathan seemed to get along. Asha and Nathan. . . "Is there a pay phone around here somewhere?"  
  
**  
  
We found a pay telephone, and 'Roxie' handed me change from her tips. She leaned casually and invisibly in the shadow of a brick column. The glass of a darkened store window reflected the empty parking lot.  
  
"Nate Barlow," said the voice on the other end of the line.  
  
"This is Jack. Don't say anything, just listen." I tried to put my thoughts in order. "I think Asha is about to get herself into trouble. Roxie and I think we can stop her, but we need your help."  
  
"I need more explanation than that, if you don't mind."  
  
"I was eavesdropping on your sister," I confessed. "I think she is going to do some snooping. If we can borrow a car from you, we'll be able to catch her first."  
  
"I'm driving. Where are you?"  
  
"The shopping mall shaped like a half-circle, with an obelisk in the middle."  
  
"Oh, that one. I'll be there in five minutes."  
  
The line went dead, and I hung up the phone.  
  
"The more the merrier?" asked 'Roxanne', and put an arm around me.  
  
I hugged her back. Her hair smelled like French fry grease, and her sweater was damp from the rain. "I hope he doesn't drag Mikah along. It's going to be hard enough to explain just to him."  
  
"You know if we try to stop Asha she's going to be suspicious," she said to my chest.  
  
"Not going to stop her." I wondered how much of my confidence was due to the fact that I knew *exactly* where 'Roxanne' was. "We're going to shut down the building's security, so she gets in and back out without getting caught."  
  
"Then we grab her, and find out what she wanted to look at."  
  
"I'm hoping we can follow her on security cameras," I admitted.  
  
She snuggled a bit closer, shifting her feet closer to mine. One warm, real thing in a cold universe. Planning was going to wait until I could see the building.  
  
Headlights bounced off one store window after another, as a cream-colored car arced around the parking lot.  
  
The driver's window rolled down, and Nathan stuck his head out. "Get in!" 


	10. Friends in high Places

Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Episode Two: Friends in high Places  
  
An Unauthorized Genetics Experiment  
  
"Get in!" Was something Nathan always wanted to yell, I could tell by the thrilled look on his face. Five minutes into the trip the look faded. "So how much trouble is my sister in?" His knuckles had gone white on the wheel. It was a question he had asked before.   
  
"Right now she's in the clear but she's poking around." Jack said it lightly; there was no reason to alarm Nathan too much. Or get him too interested.  
  
The truth was Asha was at the edge of a sink hole. One misstep and she'd be gone without a trace. I knew they could do it. I was one of the people they used to use for that kind of thing. "She's just getting too curious about government stuff, not a good idea these days." In the hour that we drove Nathan had more questions and most of them we really didn't know the answers to. This was the least informed I had ever been before a tactical maneuver.  
  
When we arrived at our destination, the building appeared unremarkable at first. It was a low structure of carbon copy offices, nothing fancy. At second glance the building was boring, bizarrely boring. There was no graffiti to be seen, no broken windows but no obvious security either, which meant there was security and it was good.   
  
Asha's transport was nowhere in sight but even an amateur would know not to park out front. No alarms were going off so she was probably still scouting out the best way in so we'd just have to do it first. Her target was on the second of three floor so it wasn't accessible to a ground level break in or entry from the roof. Our target was security. In a building that wasn't designed to impress it was probably located inconspicuously in the center, not at the front door.   
  
At Jack's insistence, Nathan parked the car down the street at a bar. Compelling him to stay there was harder but we convinced him we'd take care of his sister.   
  
We made our way back to the building at a quick walk. It was a march really, old habits are hard to break. As we approached the lights in office building and the structures around it flickered with one of the power interruptions that had become common. But it was too convenient and in the unsteady light I could see a figure momentarily as he- or she I suspected- moved toward a side office. 'Jack' had seen it too. "That wasn't a coincidence."  
  
We waited a moment, no noise, no alarms. "So Asha's got friends that know what they're doing." I didn't take my eyes from the building.   
  
"So do we find her or find her friend?" 


	11. Improvisation on a theme

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
11. Improvisation on a theme  
  
We took advantage of the flickering lights in the parking lot. She and I dodged from shadow to shadow, and wound up against an industrial-strength garage door at the back of the building. The sign said "Deliveries only."  
  
"Your pass-key!" she whispered, and handed me an enormous pry bar. "Thanks for distracting Nathan while I borrowed some of his tools."  
  
The heavy-gauge metal roll-up door was painted a dull gray, except for a few shiny scuff marks. One corner looked a little bent already, so I wedged the pry bar under the rubber seal and against the concrete.  
  
It was clearly designed to resist this sort of attack, but not from an X-5. Something popped loudly, and the bottom panel started to curl inward. I encouraged it, and a few moments later had an opening big enough for us to crawl through.  
  
*go!* said her hands.  
  
I slid through the opening, and carefully scanned the clutter of boxes that filled the loading dock. It was quiet, and would be dark except for two panels of fluorescent lights that were obviously on the emergency circuit. I took cover behind the boxy orange chassis of a fork lift truck.  
  
A moment later, 'Roxanne' joined me. She slid an empty box in front of the damaged corner of the door. Just like old times.  
  
We heard footsteps, and the creak of a door opening. She moved her hands just enough to mean *freeze!*  
  
I watched from under the fork truck as shiny black shoes and grey pants-legs paced to the center of the room, turned around, and headed back for the door.  
  
Then we were in the clear. *you lead* she signed.  
  
When I got to the door, I looked at my trail of wet boot prints leading to the fork truck. I hoped it would dry before the security guard's next trip around the building.   
  
Two beige-painted hallways and one right turn later, I caught a glimpse of Asha. She had obviously traded her cowboy boots for the white sneakers for a reason. The rubber soles were soundless against the tile floor of the lobby. She ignored the two elevators, and pointed her flashlight at a nearby door.  
  
She brushed her gloved hand against the side seam of her jacket, and paused just above the level of her belt. She tested the door that lead into the stairs, and slowly eased it open.  
  
I tucked myself back behind the corner, and caught 'Roxie''s eye. *visual* *primary target* *armed!*  
  
*hold* she signaled, with a closed fist silhouetted against her red sweater. The lights flickered back on.  
  
I waited until I heard the door shut behind Asha, and we continued our search for the central security location.   
  
Security was on the other side of the elevators. The glass wall that separated their station from the hallway let them have entirely too good a view of our approach. I pressed myself against the last of the normal wall, and crept forward until I could just touch the edge of the glass.  
  
I could hear a muffled and slightly slurred male voice complaining about "the radios are out again", and the sound of a can being set down on a hard surface.  
  
The air in the hall was cool and dry, but I could still get little traces of scents filtering under the glass door, and a few traces of people who had been here recently. I identified a particular brand of aftershave, someone else's body odor, and . . .   
  
"Cheap American beer" I whispered.  
  
Her smile was quick, and cynical. *how many?*  
  
*one* Except that the guard that we'd seen making the rounds would be back any time. *for now* 


	12. Playing the Part

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.   
  
   
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Episode 2, Playing the Part  
  
 The first evidence was a gentle hum like the far off droning of bees. There was a curse (Took damn long enough!) from the security hub and the hallway started to flicker. "Backup generator." I whispered. Equipment like that a large price tag these days. There was something in this gray boxy building and it was something to be kept secret. Visual surveillance would be up again any second and not even an X5 can go invisible.   
  
'Jack' smiled, that cool cocky smiled reserved for field operations- right before he pulled them from the gates of Hell. Walking confidently across the wide pan of glass like he owned building, he pounded on the door with a fist. "Pizza!" He roared at the thick wood.   
  
Classy, I had to admit and maybe just foolish enough to get the job done. But there was obviously no pizza on the premises which the man behind the now open door noticed immediately. "Not again." Declared an alcohol- raised voice and the fluorescent lights reflected off the barrel of a gun. "Lamont's not gonna lay the tab on me again!" The door started to close.   
  
"I left the pizza with the guy outside he coughed up the cash for it and for the rest of my delivery. But if you don't want it it's no skin off my ass. Damn near killed myself when the lights went out and all your fancy doors lockin' themselves from the outside. Now you go and pull that shit on me… I'm gone." 'Jack' spun away and the door opened again.  
  
"What 'rest' of the delivery?" The security technician asked suspiciously.   
  
With a great show of reluctance the soldier- turned- conman faced him. "Your friend outside said you were having a rough night and he owed you one…." Jack whistled. *come*  
  
I came, knowing what he had in mind and forcing myself not to scowl. Crossing the pane of glass I could see myself from several angles on the monitors inside. We would have been caught.   
  
The technician looked me over greedily with tiny eyes in a pale, pointed face. "Tell him he's forgiven." He opened the door to me in a mock display of courtesy; he still hadn't put the gun away.  
  
"You're too kind." I purred, stepping inside and turning him to face me. The weapon was still in his limp hand. I reached a hand up to caress his neck.   
  
A slight pressure on the bundle of nerves there and he fell boneless at my feet. The door opened and Jack came in. "I hope that's what you had in mind." I unnecessarily indicated the prone guard with a kick.   
  
"Of course," he grinned, "I wouldn't rent out my best girl to him."  
  
"I appreciate the compliment." I said already surveying the flashing lights and buttons surrounding us. 


	13. Spider's web

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
10. spider's web  
  
I dragged the unconscious security guard into the shadow of one of the alarm panels. 'Roxanne' tossed a roll of duct tape in my direction, and settled herself in front of a video monitor.  
  
I pulled off the man's jacket, and popped open the clip on his necktie. The hat was still under his chair. A few inches of tape covered his mouth, and I put a couple of turns around hands and feet. I really didn't want any problems from him when he woke up.  
  
"Asha's on the third floor," she said, looking over her shoulder at me and 'my' new jacket. The chevrons on the sleeve said I was supposed to be called sergeant. What a crummy outfit…  
  
"Yeah, but where's the guy on patrol?" The jacket was too short. So much for the disguise. And I wasn't going to be able to clip the tie to my T-shirt anyway.  
  
"Lamont? Gimme a minute. . . oh, crap. He's in front of the elevators now."  
  
I knocked the half empty beer can off the desk, and dived behind it as Lamont came into view through the glass. I reached for the can, so he'd be able to see a hand, and the stripes on the sleeve.  
  
"What? Sarge," he muttered, "Nothing, no one, just the lights going on and off. You okay?"  
  
"Dropped my keys," I mumbled, and pulled my hand back. I noticed a floor plan of the building, with notes for the sensors and cameras. A plan. . . "The motion sensor at the far end of the East wing is acting flakey. Number one-twenty-seven. Go check it out, make sure it's plugged in and all."  
  
"Can it wait? My feet are killing me."  
  
"Just make sure it's working," I snapped. "If you want a nap, do it there."  
  
"Hey, no need to bite my head off! I'm gone." The door closed behind him, although I could hear a muttered curse through the glass.  
  
I got up off the floor, and peeled off the jacket. I dropped it over its owner. Maybe the light wouldn't wake him.  
  
"Let me know when he gets to the end of the hall!"  
  
"What then?"  
  
"Electronic locks," I said, and scanned the control panels. This place had way too many switches. I found some that seemed to correspond to little blue numbers on the map. "I want him through the big double doors."  
  
"These?" she asked. I glanced at the screen, as Lamont let a pair of doors swing closed behind him.  
  
I turned one of the switches, and looked back at the screen. Lamont must have heard something, because he spun to push a shoulder against the now-locked door. His wide-eyed expression reminded me of something. . . unpleasant. I pushed the memory back down.  
  
Lamont reached for the radio.  
  
"Sarge, the locks are messed up, too." His voice came through one of the radios on the desk.  
  
"Working on it," I mumbled back.  
  
"Thanks." He clipped the radio back to his belt.  
  
Roxie scanned randomly through the cameras. Hallway. Office. Vending machine, seen from above. Sinks and mirrors. Front door from inside. Office, from above. "Where's Asha?" she cooed. "Be a good girl. Come to mommy. . . There's Asha."  
  
The camera pointed down on a narrow aisle of filing cabinets. Asha's blonde head blocked us from seeing what she was looking at, but she was systematically working her way through all of them. I also noticed that she was wearing latex gloves. (Note to self. Get some for next time.) No fingerprints for her. I wondered how often she did this sort of thing.  
  
A tape-muffled groan came from the corner where I'd left "Sarge." Roxanne glanced in his direction, then switched cameras to check on Lamont again.  
  
Lamont took a short run, and bounced off the door. "C'mon Sarge," said the radio. "This isn't funny!"  
  
****  
  
I was sitting on cold concrete, and staring at a blue-painted metal door. A door with no door knob. I could hear air being blown in through a grate high up in the wall, and somewhere water was running.  
  
"I screwed up." A little bit of my voice echoed off the hard surface of the walls.  
  
And now I'm trapped.  
  
***  
  
Roxanne tapped me on the shoulder.  
  
"Target is on her way down," she whispered.   
  
Seconds later we were concealed behind large fake plants in the lobby.  
  
We watched the numbers over the elevator.  
  
3  
  
2  
  
1 The doors didn't open.  
  
B 


	14. Rabbits

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.   
  
   
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Episode 2, Rabbits  
  
Ding. The doors slid open on well oiled tracks and Asha stepped out ready to be escorted from the building.  
  
At least, that's how it should have happened.   
  
The doors never opened. Something else happened though. New sounds entered the equation. Tires on pavement and doors slamming.   
  
The elevator emitted a loud buzzing alarm. "Seems Asha's jammed the doors, somehow she knew the party was starting."  
  
"Maybe her friend was invited." We were both out of sight through the nearest vent by the time the soldiers who had come with the cars realized the doors couldn't be forced and decided on the fastest alternative means of entrance which involved a thick panel of glass and the butt of a sniper rifle.   
  
I conducted a little reconnaissance via a ceiling panel left open just a crack. In my little slice of the room I saw a team of soldiers pass that was obviously highly trained but they lacked the precision of my Manticore bunkmates as well as their perfect physique.   
  
Still the unmarked black fatigues didn't belong to some rundown unit of rent-a-cops,cops; these were a group of elite, prepared for the most formidable opponent they could imagine. It was kind of ironic. That opponent- times two- was sitting back and watching them from the ceiling with no intention of discovering just how prepared they were. Jack gestured in the dark (no obstacle to us) to his left and I followed him. It was painfully slow going since we needed silence above all. I smelled fresh air ahead and wanted to question 'Jack' but decided I'd have to trust him on this. In the field, if the leader says the sky is green you say 'yessir' and don't ask about the grass.  
  
The cramped duct ended in a grill on the far side of the building. Wordlessly we slipped away in the night. While we were still in the open 'Jack' grabbed my wrist halting our progress. He pointed and I followed his finger to a flash of blond moving furtively across the property. So we were not only playing escape and evade we had a rabbit of our own to chase. "I checked the emergency hatch on the elevator while you were playing peek-a-boo. It hadn't been opened and Asha's not stupid enough to stay in a cage like that." Jack's voice was barely audible.  
  
She'd sent the car down empty. Nice.  
  
Our mark was on her own way to safety but we still didn't know what she was after. "We need to get a look at those files."  
  
"Maybe she was just looking up our favorite foods for the next roaring party."   
  
We moved in Asha's direction now, aiming to get some answers from the misguided little girl who had gone looking for them." 


	15. Contact

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
15. Contact  
  
Covertly, 'Roxanne' and I followed Asha to her car. She had parked the little beige Chevy in a disused lot on the other side of some trees. The bumper sticker said "Visualize World Peace." The license plate was white with blue lettering and a picture of a mountain: Washington state.  
  
We picked up our pace a bit, circled around our target, and cut her off just before she could reach for the door handle.  
  
"What did you find?" asked 'Roxie', without hesitation. She grabbed Asha's right wrist. Standard procedure: keep her from reaching a weapon.  
  
"We're sorry about this," I said softly. I opened her jacket, and took the pistol out of her waistband. "But we've got to know what you know."  
  
"Don't scream," continued 'Roxie', as she pinned the blonde to the side of her car. "Jack is quick, and if you're good, we'll let you go."  
  
"We need to know what you found," I said. I took a step back, so I was out of reach, and so was the little pistol.  
  
"I didn't find anything!" Asha squirmed, then gasped. 'Roxanne' was clearly tightening up on that nasty joint-lock. "I went through a bunch of useless files, then my friend called and told me to leave."  
  
"What kind of useless files?" demanded my partner-in-crime.  
  
"Who are you two, anyway?" protested Asha from her position face-first against the car. "I'm doing a research paper on government architecture. College course, okay?" I decided that was a stupid lie, intended to distract.   
  
"I wasn't aware that college students needed firepower, these days." I hoped that Asha would give us something we could work with before anyone else showed up, or a certain hostile transgenic ripped her arm off. I certainly didn't want to shoot her.  
  
"A girl can't be too careful."  
  
"What were you looking for?" I asked. I considered just grabbing her keys, dumping her in the back seat and driving off.   
  
"Why don't you just hand me over to the black shirts in there?" snapped Asha. "They can arrange drugs and electroshock. What have you got?"  
  
'Roxanne' grinned like a fiend. "Talent," she whispered.  
  
"We don't work for them, Asha. If they spotted us, there would be drugs and electricity for everyone." I regretted that confession as soon as I'd made it. If things didn't go well, I'd have to figure out how to get rid of her body.  
  
"If you don't work for them, and I don't work for them, why are we fighting?"  
  
"We're paranoid," explained 'Roxie.'  
  
"Believe me," Asha said to the window she was leaning against, "I'm not working for the government, and I'm not after the two of you."  
  
'Roxanne' let her eyes close for a moment. I knew that she was listening to Asha's heartbeat and breathing. Transgenics are really good at spotting lies, especially if we have body contact at the time.   
  
If 'Roxanne' let her go, I'd know we could trust Asha, at least for the moment. 


	16. Control

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
    
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
   
  
  
  
Chapter 16: Control  
  
  
  
I felt a pulse under my fingertips, quick but steady. Asha's breathing was sharp and even, the slightly labored breaths of prey… not a liar. So she wasn't a suit and tie and she wasn't on our tails but that didn't leave us in the clear. The fact remained: she was snooping too close to home- a home we ran away from.  
  
  
  
I released her. Pain and threats are great truth serums. Comfort and anesthesia are better. "So not much to do around here? You decided to break into an office building for the thrill?"   
  
  
  
"I was doing a favor for a friend. He's kind of a conspiracy buff. You know Dr. Frankenstein, things that go bump in the night." Asha was backing away from us, wiping her palms on her pant legs. She was hiding something.  
  
  
  
"Now that you mention it, those security guards were incompetent enough to be pod people." Jack said, getting a faint smile out of Asha.   
  
  
  
Her expression mutated a moment later, her eyes widening with fear and understanding. "The fire…" She looked from me to Jack and back again, her hands rubbing the wrists I'd immobilized. "You're… you're…." Her eyes scanned our faces, really noticing the perfect features that had seemed wrong somehow to her brain.   
  
  
  
I saw the familiar tensing of muscles as a target prepared for a last desperate flight. But Asha didn't run. "I know what you are." She declared boldly. "If you decide to kill me I can't do anything about it. But if you don't, there's someone who'd like to talk to you."   
  
  
  
I laughed. It wasn't a nice sound even to me. "There are a thousand people who'd like to talk to us in a hundred countries preferably in a cage with 'sold' stamped on our foreheads."  
  
  
  
"This is different. He helps people." Asha could see that we weren't buying it. "Just give him a chance."   
  
  
  
"A chance to fill his wallet? Not happening." I told her  
  
  
  
"Okay." Asha leaned against the car. "So what happens now? You disappear thay find my body in a couple of weeks."  
  
  
  
"Only half right." I took a step closer. "They wouldn't find your body."   
  
  
  
Panic finally reared itself in Asha and we were in total control. We could make her vanish and leave this place and no one would be the wiser. People disappeared all the time and we had been the reason more than once.  
  
  
  
But we weren't really in control at all because scared as she was, Asha's pulse was quick her steady, her breathing sharp and even. She was telling the truth and someone out there knew our secret. 


	17. Bargain with the Devil or somone like hi

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
17. Bargain with the Devil, or someone like him  
  
Splashes of red and blue light filtered through the trees that divided the growing traffic jam of police and armored vehicles from the dark and mostly silent parking lot that we were using for our unofficial conference. 'Roxanne's bronze curls would be right at home in a disco.  
  
"So, tell us again what you wanted out of a locked office, at midnight?" She leaned further into Asha's personal space.  
  
"I didn't find it. The files are in a vault in the basement. Dead storage." She shrugged nervously. "I was going to go down, but I got the call to get out."  
  
"What files?" I asked.  
  
"Notes and drawings for a specific government project, dated 1992, and phone logs for conversations with someone named Sandeman."  
  
"What project?" I started to wonder if we shouldn't be going. Sooner or later someone was going to notice us, even through the trees.  
  
Asha opened her mouth to answer, then glanced at her jacket pocket. I could hear the low buzz of a ringing cell phone.  
  
"Never mind," I said, "I'll find out for myself."  
  
I snagged the phone with my left hand, and thumbed it open. I tucked the little pistol into a back pocket, carefully.  
  
"Where are you?" asked the male voice at the other end.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked.  
  
"A friend. Is Asha safe?" This was definitely the same guy that she'd been talking to at Nathan's place.  
  
"She's with me, for now. Do you have a name, friend?"  
  
Roxanne reached in Asha's pocket, and came out with car keys. She shoved the woman into the back seat, and motioned me to follow.  
  
"Logan. It's good that you and your friend left when you did."  
  
I slid into the back seat next to Asha, and slammed the door closed as 'Roxie' started the car.  
  
"Things were starting to get hot. What was she after, anyway?"  
  
"One more piece of the puzzle that is Manticore. I wanted more names, more information." Logan's voice was steady and controlled. I could tell that the man was a pro, although I wasn't sure at what.  
  
"Why do you care? Did you light the fire?" I leaned against the car door to steady myself as 'Roxanne' burned rubber.  
  
"No, and neither did Asha. I'd really like to know which side you and the young lady are on. Come to think of it, who are you?"  
  
The car shuddered and bounced over a curb, and we were back on the road. Asha eyed me from her side of the back seat. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding. Trust no one. Reveal nothing. Logan might be an ally, or I might just be kidding myself. If there is the slightest chance that he knows where some of the others are. . .  
  
"Okay, Logan. You can call me Sharp. Someone might even recognize the name. What are you willing to offer me in exchange for some dusty old files?" A real name, but not the one I'm using now. A risk.  
  
The man sent a short, sharp laugh over the phone connection. "What do you want? Keep in mind that I'm mostly good for information. Once upon a time, I'd have offered you cash, but I'm a little broke this week."  
  
"Well, that makes two of us, Logan." Roxanne took one hand off the wheel, and showed me the sign for medic. "Let's test the quality of your information. Can you find me a doctor who knows how to keep quiet?"  
  
"I hope that's not urgent," said Logan, "because I'm going to have to do a little bit of research. I promise the instant that I find him or her, you will hear about it."  
  
"I just like to plan ahead. If that works, I'll have more questions." If it doesn't, I'll just have to hunt you down and kill you.  
  
"I don't think you want to go back in there," said Logan. "Their security cameras are picking up lots of activity."  
  
"So that's why the cameras never got shut down."   
  
"Uh, yeah. I was watching you."  
  
"What can you tell me about the building layout? And the location of all those police?"  
  
'Roxanne' put the car in park, and whispered "I'm going in to get Nathan." She stepped out into a puddle. We were parked behind the bar. 


	18. Sheep's clothing

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
18 Sheep's clothing  
  
Information, the kind we were dealing with is like a drop of blood in water. The vibrant red, chock full of facts, dissipates almost immediately and spreads in fading shades of truth. The end result is a watery remnant spread infinitesimally thin.  
  
Somehow it still drew the sharks.   
  
I clenched my jaw as I listened I listened to Sharp/Jack spill blood in the water. Just a little. Enough. We'd have to trust this Logan now as the cage between us and the predators. I felt the steel enclosing me. "I'm going to get Nathan."   
  
Outside the confines of the car I still couldn't shake the feeling of walls. The cool night air pressed too close and the spangled heavens contained a thousand distant search lights. The clouds were blowing off.  
  
I stepped lightly over the paved surface feeling I was playing a game of escape and evade with the whole world. Soon the lights of the bar where we'd left Nathan loomed ahead. The claustrophobia in my head had begun to ebb away. Escape and evade was a game full of uncertainty but I had played it too many times to count.   
  
The bar was dark, and the few patrons too alcohol sodden to notice me. Nathan jumped when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Time for a family reunion." I said and motioned him to follow me. He crumpled a bill and dropped it next to his half-empty bottle of beer.  
  
In the dark, Nathan's motions sounded alarmingly loud to me but we moved fast enough and didn't attract notice. The car was dark, but I heard Sharp-- still on Asha's cell. Fear I didn't know was there dissipated. Fear that he had gone in again without me.  
  
"Get in the car," I whispered to Nathan. I took the driver's seat again. "And keep quiet."  
  
Sharp/Jack tapped me on the shoulder, and I looked over my shoulder to see his lips moving silently: "Logan doesn't want us going in now."  
  
I grabbed the phone. The red plastic was warm from Sharp's grip. "What's the problem?" I asked.  
  
"There are dozens of people in there. Police, both state and local, plus extra people from the security service, and an ambulance. Everyone except the CDC."  
  
"No Center for Disease Control. So they aren't responding like it's terrorism." I fumbled with Asha's overloaded key ring until I found the one that fit the ignition.  
  
"Right. They do have people looking for intruders in the computer system, though. I'm not going to be able to keep an eye on things much longer." Logan's voice was beginning to show an edge of tension.  
  
"What do you still have control of?" I looked at the chips in my nail polish. I wasn't sure if it was the pregnancy or not, but the smell of nail polish had been making me nauseous recently.  
  
"The camera system, the electronic locks, and something called 'NBC alarm'." I could hear key-clicks in the background. Logan was still doing his thing.  
  
"They have nuclear/biological/chemical detection?" I remembered that wiring buildings with those sensors was a bit of a fad, back before the Pulse. Too expensive now, unless you were the government.  
  
Logan said something, which I didn't hear, because I was remembering watching Asha's gloved hands on the security monitors. "Asha," I said, "where did your gloves come from? Any other medical supplies?"  
  
"We got a big box from someone's fall-out shelter." She sounded puzzled. "Some stuff we can use, but also weird shit like a Geiger counter, a bunch of filter masks, and two entire Tyvek clean suits. Whole mess is in my trunk until someone helps me lift it out"  
  
"Logan," I sang. "Can you get that NBC alarm to go off?" I imagined dozens of people running around in panic. Just what *we* wanted.  
  
A few key-clicks came to my ear as I started the car.  
  
"Done," said Logan. "It's actually a test sequence, but it sounds like the real thing and flashes the lights."  
  
"Great. Now for some locks." I pictured the map of the building in my mind, and recited the numbers that would close just about everything except the front doors.  
  
Sharp and I would suit up like haz-mat technicians, and walk in the back, while everyone else ran out the front. We'd get some crappy old files for Logan, and I would get to go home and sleep. 


	19. Rewind

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
19. Rewind  
  
There was almost no traffic on our short trip back to the office building. Asha was silent in the back seat, Nathan in the front.  
  
I listened to Roxanne/Elle sketch out a plan of attack. Logan's faint voice came through the phone to agree and confirm each step.  
  
The doors that Logan locked for her gave us one way in. We would go in the back, take a few turns, and head down in the one stairwell left open. We didn't have a map of the lowest level of the basement, where the storage was located. That was going to be unlocked for us, and stay that way.  
  
In theory, we just had to walk past the confused crowd, go get the stuff, and walk back out. Easy. Right?  
  
When 'Roxanne' parked the car, no one noticed. She picked a dark corner, and the chaotic swarm of blue uniforms were all moving, double-time. Some of them were moving towards the office building. Others were moving away, towards the squad cars. The power was back on, and we could see dark shapes moving in some of the windows.  
  
She got out of the front seat, and I followed her to the trunk. The lid hinged open with a squeal. A battered gray metal box filled most of the available space. It was heavy, but not too much so for a couple of Manticore's finest. Two heat-sealed plastic bags with the suits were easy to find. The filter masks were smaller, and under other things. There was the Geiger counter, with dead batteries, and another little unit that was supposed to detect chemical weapons.  
  
She pushed the buttons on it, and managed to make it hum, with disturbing pitch and timbre. "I can work with this!" She smiled a perfect and dangerous smile.  
  
"Scare the crap out of them?" I shook the wrinkles out of the white fiber-reinforced plastic suit, and stepped into it. It rustled like a stack of mailing envelopes. I taped the bottom of the legs to my boots, and Nathan handed me a pair of plastic gloves, in an ugly purple color.  
  
Asha helped 'Roxanne' step into the other suit.   
  
"Here's the deal," Elle said. "You two take Nathan's car home. We're going to get the stuff, loose any pursuit, and meet you."  
  
"This is my job," said Asha, quietly. Her hands were clenched around the second pair of plastic glove.  
  
"Not anymore," I told her. My breath hissed through the filter mask.  
  
"I told Logan that I'd do it. I'll fit in that suit, and I can handle myself in a fight." Asha turned towards me.  
  
"There isn't going to be any fight," said Elle, as she adjusted the straps on her mask and tucked her blue-streaked curls into the hood.  
  
The vague feeling of uneasiness suddenly came into focus. "You know, you don't have to do this," I told her. "Asha and I can stroll in, get the stuff, and be back before they know what hit them. I'd feel better if you weren't involved."  
  
Her face froze, and she looked at me though half-closed eyes. "Do you have a problem working with me?"  
  
"No, it's just. . ."  
  
"You think waiting tables is making me loose my edge?" she hissed.  
  
"No, but . . ."   
  
"Then what's your problem?" She grabbed the gloves out of Asha's hands, and glared at me.  
  
****  
  
I turned the knob, and swung the door open. A woman in a dark suit raised her hand as her expression shifted from boredom to surprise. "Look out!"  
  
I turned to look. Male, dark suit. He pivoted to swing a shotgun to point in my direction.  
  
The world was a very small place, with only three things in it. Me, a .45 pistol, and Mr. Shotgun.  
  
I made one good shot, chest level, before the tasers hit me.  
  
Sometimes, you need to scream.  
  
Sometimes, the floor reaches up towards you.  
  
I slowly realized that the current was off, and looked at a dozen shoes from too close. The pistol wasn't in my hand any more. I tried to collect my wits, and tried to find a direction called "up."  
  
If I got "up" I could fight. Where was "up"?  
  
I felt what might have been a needle stick. The random gray-on-gray pattern of the carpet started to blur.  
  
"We gave him too much," said a voice, male.  
  
"He'll be fine," a woman said. Her navy jacket moved towards me. "Get him ready for transport."  
  
I wasn't looking at the carpet anymore. The fluorescent lights marked off a grid pattern that would tell me which way "up" was.  
  
If I could focus anymore. If they weren't smearing like oil on a wet parking lot. Look at all the pretty colors. 


	20. Organized Chaos

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
 Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
 Summary:  A quick and easy job gets complicated.  Will new lies be able to cover the naked truth?   
  
20. Organized Chaos  
  
The shakes are about the scariest thing that can happen to one of us. Right out of the womb we were fitted into a world laced boots and straight soldiers. Thee was a rule for everything and an almost mindless organization.  
  
Now and then our brains seemed to do what somewhere deep down our bodies wanted to do. Rebel. Just before widely firing neurotransmitters turned us into a convulsing heap of limbs, they sent a flood of paralyzing images. It played the memories we kept locked tightly away under the strict chains of order.   
  
I saw the blankness in Sharp's eyes as he was silent for just a moment too long. Soon the tremors would start and his legs would give out. But I stood and watched waiting until the last possible second to help him. As much as I watched to step closer, support him before he fell, the soldier in me stood her ground against a show of weakness that might compromise our authority.   
  
His eyes refocused through the clear plastic of the tox suit. "I can do this job with Asha," he said, "but we're going in half blind with minimal recon we need backup." Backup. I glared. "Backup that can improvise if Plan A fails and we're stuck in there." His voice fell. "I don't want you in there." He admitted. "Not unless you have to be. Not now. But I need to know I've got you here incase something goes wrong. I can't get caught in a place like that. Not again."  
  
Now it was time for my brain to play memories like a broken storyboard only I knew there would be no shakes. This story wasn't so random.  
  
**************  
  
A mission. A girl under my protection. I had the lead, I was calling the shots.   
  
A phone call.   
  
Before I knew it I was off to Detroit before the soldier in me had time object. Before rationality said there were other capable soldiers to take care of it. Because he was missing. They couldn't find him. I wasn't there.  
  
But I would be.  
  
  
  
*********  
  
"Plan A won't fail. I made it, remember?" But I was already pealing off my suit and handing it to a scowling Asha. I helped her fasten it well enough that it looked like it might belong to her. "Good luck in there." I sealed the gloves with heavy tape.  
  
Her face seemed to expand all at once. "What?"  
  
"Good luck." I said more cheerfully this time. "Don't look so surprised. That's all you're getting for me. If the building catches on fire don't bother deluding yourself. I won't pull you out first." 


	21. Closing in on the objective

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 21. Closing in on the objective  
  
Asha raised a purple-gloved hand, and I followed her purposefully towards the back door. For some reason, people seemed to be happy to give us space. The filter mask was starting to stick to my face. I was sweating in the mostly-sealed plastic suit, and it was only going to get worse.  
  
Two security guards, in gray uniforms were standing next to a sign that said "Smoking Area." One left immediately. I guess he didn't like the way we were dressed.  
  
"It's all clear," said the other. I recognized him from the cameras. Lamont.  
  
"Thanks," said my partner in crime. She waved her sensor box in his direction. "You're clean. . . for now."  
  
"Go on in, then." He looked a little pale.  
  
I held the door, and Asha stepped through. I glanced back, and Lamont was backing nervously away. He wasn't going to follow us in. I let the door swing closed behind me.  
  
My breath whistled through the filter mask, which I was wearing to maintain the illusion that the air was full of some sort of biological toxin. (which probably wouldn't have bothered me anyway, if the people who cooked up my DNA did their job correctly.)   
  
However, this deception had a price. You can only suck so much air through a filter like that. The limit on oxygen would also limit our speed. Asha was moving at a steady, controlled walk. I'd be a little faster, but not for long. What was really irritating me was the sound, and the hood messing with my hearing.  
  
"These stairs," I told Asha. The door was unlocked, and the lights were still on. She followed me down three flights, and then we were facing the door with "B3" stenciled carefully on its beige surface.  
  
"Let's go, then." She glanced back up the stairs.  
  
"Quiet for just a sec." I took off the filter mask, and let the suit's hood slide off my head. I could hear Asha's quick breathing, and mine. I put my ear to the door. I felt a little happier – I couldn't hear footsteps. The faint sounds of machinery let me know that the power was still on. Something was still working to pump air and water through the building.  
  
**  
  
Light was shining redly through my closed eyelids, and the surface underneath me was cool and slick. I could hear the rush of air through ductwork, and the echo of one drugged-slow heart beat. Mine.  
  
I opened my eyes to a white metal ceiling, far, far above me.   
  
I let my head roll to one side. The floor was concrete, painted in a bright yellow. The walls were concrete block, painted a pale green. No windows.  
  
There was just one door. It was a smooth, featureless blue metal surface. There was no doorknob.   
  
**  
  
I opened the door, and looked left and right. A seemingly endless hallway with identical doors. "It makes a left turn at the end," offered Asha. She pointed.  
  
We went. The doors were numbered. B370. . . B371 . . . B372. . . The steady white-noise hiss of the ventilation let us know that we weren't actually being buried alive.  
  
"What's with you and Roxanne?" asked Asha, peeling her hood back and letting the filter mask hang around her neck. "She's the professional here. So why did you want me along?"  
  
Is that a nosy question? "She's pregnant. Not very far along, but I don't think. . ."  
  
"Wait, stop," said Asha. "I don't need all the tactical analysis. Is the baby yours?"  
  
What? "Well, to start with, it's not a baby for at least another six months, and. . ." I tried to figure out what a normal human might really be trying to find out. "How can it belong to anyone but her?" I must be missing something.  
  
Asha snickered. "I don't know how they did things where you came from, kid, but out here, it takes two people to make a baby."   
  
"I KNOW that!" I snapped. "It doesn't matter. She and I are a small, specialized combat team. Whatever the situation is, I back her up."  
  
"So you are going to help her with a kid?" Her expression looked sympathetic, and her voice was calm.  
  
"Yes." I felt for the cell phone, and realized that it was in a pocket under the plastic suit. Maybe nothing would go wrong and no one would call. "I'm feeling darn weird about it. It's way outside my training."  
  
"I think that's the way everyone feels about their first child, Jack. The two of you are going to do just fine."  
  
The hallway ended at a "T". Stainless steel vault doors were spaced along an expanse of beige-painted concrete block wall. Suddenly I knew I was deep underground. 


	22. Hardcopy

Chapter 22: Hardcopy  
  
In its own way, war is so much cleaner than all this. So much easier. There's no rules, no limits but the physical limits of your body. Objectives are clear. The enemy has a name and a goal. Sure you still want to keep your unit alive and safe which is why you don't send pieces of it off with no recon and no backup.   
  
I watched the office building with acute concentration. People moved in and out, uniformed guards mostly. There was urgency in their steps but no flashing lights, no alarms. I was on edge, every nerve frozen on the verge of motion so that I snapped at Nathan when he said my name. I didn't apologize and I didn't look away.   
  
He handed me a phone that hummed and vibrated in my hand. "I've got activity on a Russian spy satellite," Logan's voice said without preamble, "looks like a convoy's heading your way." There was the sound of keystrokes.  
  
"ETA?"   
  
"Ten minutes, give or take." He said distractedly. "I've got a clearer picture. Three vehicles, light armor. It's probably just a routine response to the sys shutdown. We couldn't risk exposing any military documents to the public now could we? Still, it would be wise to clear out as soon as possible… you and your friend especially I think."  
  
I didn't have time to worry about his implications. "Why didn't you call them directly?"  
  
"I can't get through to Asha's phone. They must be in the lower levels now. Why am I talking to you anyway?" Either he didn't have access to the cameras anymore or the hazmat suits were impeding his view.   
  
"I'm playing search and rescue. I'll give them five minutes."   
  
"Five minutes." He was worried.  
  
"The objective is still obtainable and the perceived threat is minimal we can afford some time."  
  
"I didn't think your kind was the type to sit on the sidelines when one of you was in danger." He did know something or thought he did anyway.   
  
"Sharp's a professional, he will be out of there with the documents secure even if he has to drag your girlfriend along with him. So put away your control complex, keep your eyes on you little screens and hold up your end because we've got a good grip on things here." There's a reason the military keeps things from civilians. It's called panic. "We'll play analyze the voice on the other end later. I think I'm winning."  
  
"I'll have to dis- wait a minute." Like I had a choice. "A fourth vehicles joined the convoy, heavy armor, no markings."  
  
"Probably a sweeper team." I said. "They'll be checking for explosives."  
  
"Or setting them." He said gravely. "There was a reason I had Asha go after this place. It was the only place on record as having these documents I'm after. They don't exist electronically as far as I can tell."  
  
"No copies… so you think there's stuff there somebody really doesn't want to get passed around and since there's a chance it was exposed…."  
  
"That somebody might want to destroy the evidence." 


	23. Not like last time

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 23. Not like last time  
  
Asha had peeled back her glove, and compared the numbers written on the back of her hand to the little metal disk that marked the vault door. "This is it."  
  
"Right." I looked back down the hallway, the way we'd come. We had passed about a dozen of the shiny, rectangular doors on our way. Someone had lots of things they wanted kept locked up. "I wonder what's in the rest of them."  
  
"I'm not really curious right now," admitted Asha. "Let's just get this stuff and get out of here."  
  
"Do you have a combination for this thing?" The door had a huge handle, like an antique refrigerator, or an industrial strength gym locker. The hasp of a combination padlock held the handle in the latched position. The padlock itself was as big as my closed fist.  
  
She showed me the numbers written on her hand. The vault number, a series of five numbers, and a long string of numbers.  
  
I held my breath, and listened to the tumblers click into place as I turned the scuffed brass dial. It came open with a 'snap' that echoed down the hall and back. I unhooked it, and dropped the heavy thing on the floor. I didn't even need to take off the gloves.  
  
"Cool," I said. "That last number?" The handle let me pull it back and the door swung slowly open. The lights inside blinked on. One side of the space was shallow beige file drawers. The other wall was dusty beige concrete, with racks full of old style reel-to-reel computer tapes in their round plastic cases. It was about four meters from the door to the sign on the far wall that said "Safety!" at the top.  
  
"File number, I think," she said as I stepped over the threshold. The metal door frame showed the faint print of a gasket to seal the documents inside away from the outside.  
  
"Great. You just wait out there, and I'll grab whatever it is." I looked at the rack of tapes. Some were labeled with black felt-tip marker on the edge of the case. Others had little cardboard tags that fluttered in the breeze from the tiny vent over my head.  
  
"I'll help," said Asha, and put her foot on the door frame.  
  
"No, stay where you are. There isn't any way to prop the door open." The last time I'd been this far below ground. . .  
  
**  
  
The blue door swung slowly open. Two stocky men in blue suits cleared the way for a gray-haired woman. She was empty-handed. They carried shock sticks.  
  
I decided to stay sitting on the floor. Keep them relaxed, I thought.  
  
"I need to inform you," the woman said calmly, "that there has been a change in your ownership." I recognized her voice from before. She had told her team "He'll be fine. Get him ready for transport."  
  
"Really?" I asked. I watched her and the two thugs, and tried to decide.  
  
"We have a buyer for an X-5 experimental military unit. You will cooperate."  
  
"What are you talking about? I'm a civilian," I lied. "Check my ID. I've got people who are expecting me. The police. . ."  
  
"That's enough of that crap," she snapped. "We know exactly what you are. And I can guarantee that the police aren't looking."  
  
So much for bluffing. I scrambled off the slick concrete floor and launched myself at her. The impact knocked her to the floor, and I got a hand on her throat as she started to struggle. "Open the door or. . ."  
  
Her bodyguards closed in, made electrical contact, and I got to watch blue lightning from way too close, again.  
  
**  
  
I made myself look at the file drawer labels. The numbers were small and smudged, but they seemed to be consecutive. "Focus." I mumbled to myself. I could feel sweat running down inside my shirt. "Not stress, yet."  
  
I pulled a random drawer open. It was stuffed with rows of little flat boxes, on edge. The typed labels were yellowed and peeling away from the cardboard boxes. I pulled one out and opened it. Dark and slippery microfilm was wound on an orange plastic spool. It went back in the drawer.  
  
The drawers were labeled with the first four digits of the film number, so I had no trouble finding the right one.   
  
"Hurry up," murmured Asha. "This place is giving me the creeps. I keep thinking that I hear someone."  
  
"That makes two of us, but give me a minute." I extracted the box with the right numbers, and dumped the little reel of microfilm into my hand. With the film held against the light, I could read the header. It was a match. I dropped the spool inside my shirt, out of the way.  
  
To finish the job properly, I pulled a reel from another drawer, and put it in the empty box. The two little cardboard boxes went back into their slots, and I patted them into place. Now it would require a complete inventory and examination of every single piece of film to figure out what we took. 


	24. Wonder Woman

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 24: Wonder Woman  
  
I was on my way to the building before the five minutes were up. "Help me out with the cameras." I hailed my cyber angel.  
  
""You're going in." Logan's voice was filled with relief. I couldn't help but wonder what the man's poker face was like.  
  
"Yeah, and fluorescent lighting wreaks havoc on my complexion." I hung up. We were getting down to the wire. I could see a little military caravan creeping towards us on my cognitive map and I had no plan as to how to get myself to Sharp. It was like being one of the dots waiting for Pac Man to eat it. And not old fashioned Pac Man- new age Pac Man complete with AK-47.  
  
Sure, I walked right in the front door, with no problems but quite sure they would start on the other side. The main corridor was eerily still after the activity of the parking lot. I chalked that up to Logan too. Unfortunately, everyone who hadn't been neatly contained by Logan's foray into the electronic locking system would be making there way towards Asha and Sharp like rats in a maze.   
  
The first guy I came upon was a local cop that belonged in a shopping mall. I rounded a corner silently having heard a voice ahead. "…Heard some kind of military brass are on the way, we're supposed to clear out." The radio in his hand crackled to life. The reply, filled with expletives, was a frustrated insight that they couldn't leave until someone fixed the system and unlocked the doors. The guy on my end laughed. "Over and out." I found a nerve in his neck- not the right one. He'd still pass out, that or have a heart attack but I didn't have the time to cry about it.   
  
He slumped to the floor, out cold.   
  
One less lap for me in the burning lake of sulphur.  
  
I ran into my next three obstacles, literally. They were state police walking side by side down the otherwise empty hallway like they expected Osama, the Unibomber and the Grim Reaper himself to pop out of the walls. One of them courteously stayed where I'd dropped them but chivalry was dead in the other two and they just didn't respect a girl in a hurry. My foot connected with a jaw and by the time I had turned again guy #2 was pulling out his gun. The disarm I chose didn't goes as planned and I felt his radius snap as his wrist turned farther than it was meant to turn. I took him down with a blow to the temple and took his gun.   
  
"Whoa! That was like Wonder Woman quality action!" So the hallway wasn't empty. I was faced with a skinny young man in civilian clothes, that is dockers, a beanie, pocket protector and 80s style fingerless gloves. Some tech whiz from the security company I decided. He was no more threatening standing there than he was as a limp form at my feet. But his ID tag would be helpful. That along with the gloves and a pencil used to hastily put my hair up gave me enough of a disguise that I just had to sprint(which I wanted to do anyway) and babble about computer problems and Giga-junk to get myself to the lower levels.  
  
As I descended the hallways became grayer and pressed closer. I imagined how close they'd be pressing on Sharp and ran faster. There was no one on these levels and I was listening for signs of life and hearing none. I rounded a corner and an arm snapped out in front of my face. It would have caught me under the jaw but it dropped just in time and caught me across the chest, giving so I wasn't slung backward.   
  
"Elle!"  
  
But I was already going back the way I came. "Abort! Now!"  
  
Sharp was off and running and Asha a moment behind. "Objective Complete." He told me.   
  
"Good. We're out of time." We noticed a the same time that speech wasn't a problem because, instinctively we ran so Asha could keep pace.   
  
"How far out of time?"  
  
"Might want to carry her." 


	25. Closed doors

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 21. Closed doors  
  
Elle's toes tapped nervously, and her fingers twisted the photo-ident that was clipped to her sweater. She was clearly itching to be gone. I wondered what the pic of the guy with glasses would be good for.  
  
Before Asha could protest, I grabbed a wrist, crouched, and settled her into a fireman's carry across my shoulders. A firm grip on her plastic suit would keep her there. If she didn't struggle too much, I might even be able to avoid slamming her into any door frames.   
  
"This sucks," I said to no one in particular, and followed Elle back towards the stairs.  
  
"Oh, thanks," growled Asha. I could feel her trying to curl into a ball, and settling her weight more evenly.  
  
Elle got to the stairs, and froze with her hand on the door. "They're coming down!"  
  
Crap. We did an about-face, and she sprinted past me, leading to the elevator.  
  
When I caught up, she was leaning on the button hard enough to crack the plastic.  
  
"Are there other stairs?" I asked.  
  
"Logan locked them for me." Her lip twitched.  
  
"Can we lie our way out?" asked Asha, from behind my left shoulder.  
  
Elle shook her head. "I already caused some casualties on my way in." How had I ever thought that being 'Roxane' the waitress would make Elle loose her edge?  
  
The elevator door slid open like there was nothing wrong. I could hear footsteps, from somewhere down the hall.  
  
Empty. Yellow fluorescent light shone off scuffed stainless steel. We got in. Elle pushed a button, and the doors slid shut.   
  
"You can put me down now." The elevator started moving.  
  
As the numbers switched from B3 to B2, Elle hit 'Redial' on the phone.  
  
She shook her head, counted to ten, and hit it again.  
  
One ring. "Logan! How many in the front lobby?"  
  
"Lots. Just a sec. . ."  
  
"I'm running out of secs."  
  
"Nobody's on the third yet," offered the voice on the phone.  
  
Elle muttered something that sounded like "luck," and snapped off the phone. She pushed the second floor button.  
  
"Speed," she said. "We gotta get behind them, and make a very rapid escape."  
  
The floor underneath me paused, and reversed direction.  
  
Elle used that "luck" word again, and swiped her stolen ID badge through the card reader. The display lit, and she started to punch keys.  
  
The elevator hovered, indecisively. We were stuck. I dropped Asha.  
  
***  
  
Boot against my ribs, and I just missed bashing my head against the concrete floor.   
  
I would have sworn I could feel the current arcing down my nerves, and heating bones. Two bodyguards, and the both had freshly charged batteries and good contact.  
  
The door swung open, but I was in no position to take advantage of it. Two more blue-suited goons helped the woman up.  
  
The current quit, the buzzing in my ears slowed down, and I realized she was talking. "You have some sort of delusions about who is in charge here. This will be resolved shortly." She strode out with confidence, and four more toughs in blue suits walked in.  
  
The adrenaline kicked up a notch, and I did my best to levitate off the floor.  
  
  
  
Six of them, and one of me. I decided it was almost a fair fight.  
  
**  
  
I felt the sweat running down the back of my neck, and I tore off the white coverall. Elle didn't even look up from the panel and the keypad.  
  
The shiny metal doors were still closed, and the elevator floor was solid as a rock. I tried to press fingers between the two halves of the door. It was getting hard to breath in here.  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Asha.  
  
**  
  
Dodging the shock sticks kept me busy for a little while. Then, I had an opening.  
  
I slid behind one, and my elbow met his ribs. He sank to the floor, and practically tripped me. Two others tried to tag me, and a third that I'd lost track of made contact.  
  
Blue lightning, and a couple of fists came at me.  
  
I heard the door swing open, and watched two more guys came through. One dragged out my victim, the other stayed to join the fun.  
  
It formed a pattern. First a shock, then I'd get a couple of bruises. They would back off, and repeat.  
  
Every now and then I'd get close enough to hurt someone, but he would immediately be replaced.  
  
**  
  
"Elle," said Asha.  
  
The lights seemed to be getting dim, and flickering.  
  
**  
  
It turns out that I can run up a wall, for just a little while, if there are enough guys in suits chasing me. I had an odd, sideways view of the floor for an instant. Concrete, with reddish smears.  
  
"Just like that stupid 90s movie," I muttered to myself. The one with the sunglasses was especially creepy.  
  
Back on the floor, back on my feet. I caught an arm, took the balance, and didn't wait to see the guy hit. The sunglasses bounced, spinning up into the air.  
  
Keep moving. My left foot slid, just a bit. Careful.  
  
My fist met the crease under someone's jaw, and I looked for my next opportunity to do damage.  
  
Mr. Sunglasses, in mid-air, minus the sunglasses. Football . . .  
  
(I tried to sidestep, with no traction. Someone's blood.)  
  
. . . tackle.  
  
The floor came up to smack me, but I wasn't paying attention. That knee isn't supposed to bend in that direction.  
  
Mr. Sunglasses got to his feet, grinning like he was planning his end-zone dance.  
  
Half a dozen rumpled suits closed in, blocking out the light.  
  
Get up. Now.  
  
My right leg wasn't going with the plan.   
  
All blue lighting, with occasional flashes of badly-polished black leather. 


	26. Calvary, in disorderly retreat

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Ch. 26 Calvary, in a disorderly retreat  
  
My computer geek's ID card had got me to a log-in screen. The little red-lit display told me that my name was Eric Finster-Smythe, and demanded my password. There were a couple of ways around this, but the system was holding the elevator while it waited. If I hit "cancel", the elevator would start moving, probably in the wrong direction.  
  
I'd come here to get Sharp. Sure, I'd take Asha, too, since she was handy, but I wasn't going to work up a sweat for her. We even had whatever useless thing that Sharp and Asha went in for.  
  
I was going to have to guess the password. I scolded myself for not taking the guy's wallet. Birthday would be nice – but all I knew was he was a fan of some stupid program about a woman named Dinah (punch it in – nope, not that) who says the magic word and turns into an ass-kicking machine.  
  
The magic word was – What was it? Must have been a "popular culture" class I slept through. She says the magic word . . .  
  
Someone grabbed my arm. "Elle," said Asha, "what is he trying to do?" Her eyes were wide.  
  
Sharp was trying to leave the elevator. He was trying to get the grip between the doors to open them, and wasn't really thinking things through. I could see the rapid pulse in his neck, and his eyes seemed to be rolled back into his head.   
  
I couldn't think of a bad word bad enough.  
  
"Sharp!" He wasn't really here, and I had a bad feeling about where he might be, mentally. "Listen to me!"  
  
He ignored me. His fingers slipped on the door – sweaty palms.  
  
"Asha," I said, tossing her the phone, "dial nine one one."  
  
She looked at me like I was loosing my mind. "What do I tell them?"  
  
I glared at her, and she started dialing. "Tell them that someone's having a heart attack. On the roof. Need helicopter! There will be a body."  
  
"Sharp," I put a hand on his arm, carefully. Rapid pulse, cold sweat, trembling. I was feeling pretty shaky myself. "We're leaving!"  
  
"Trapped!" he muttered, and leaned back into the elevator door.  
  
***  
  
I was in the lead. We'd been lucky enough to overhear a radio conversation, and my team and I were pretty sure that Sharp was inside that messy maze of concrete and chemical refinery equipment. Shadows were getting long, and we were taking maximum advantage.  
  
I was also too far out in front. Part of my brain was screaming that my team (and the rest of Sharp's) couldn't keep up, and another part of my brain was imagining horrible things happening to Sharp. As a rule, it takes lots of work to keep an X where they don't want to be. Which meant that if Sharp wasn't walking out on his own, he was in serious trouble.  
  
The gray concrete corridor stretched out into the distance in front of me. Color coded pipes would have told me where to find hot water, or live steam, or whatever, if I cared. I heard unfamiliar voices, mangled by the echoes. I ran harder.  
  
An open door caught my attention, and I ducked in.   
  
"Bastard," said the guy next to the door, who was holding ice to one eye (and therefore didn't see me) "He really messed up Toby and Fletch."  
  
"Yeah," said the other one, "but he got what was coming to him." He was leaning over a desk and trying to fit together some broken bits of sunglasses.  
  
"Boss-lady is going to be pissed if you've killed him, you know."  
  
"Speaking of pissed," I interrupted, "where is the bastard?" One looked towards me, the other started to glance towards a television screen, then stopped himself.  
  
"Who are you to care?"  
  
"He called a taxi," I fibbed. I got a quick glance at the screen. I didn't see any motion, but I felt my stomach dropping. The body on the floor looked uncomfortably familiar.  
  
"You can't just barge in here where you're not wanted, young lady." He stood up and straightened his jacket. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"  
  
"I don't have one," I said, and launched a kick at his midsection.  
  
***  
  
Asha was talking to the cell phone. She was telling some very persuasive lies about an industrial accident involving hot roofing material, and electricity. Oh, yeah. Send a helicopter.  
  
Sharp scraped fingernails against the steel doors, then shifted for a better grip.  
  
"Gotta talk to me," I whispered. I put a hand on his shoulder. X-5 muscle, tense. If I ever needed a spare anvil . . . Well, I'd probably wind up using his head. "I've got the escape plan."  
  
***  
  
I didn't realize there was blood under my fingernails until I had to slow down to pick the lock. Fact of the matter is, they taught me that I was supposed to bust the door down, with my entire squad behind me. If I'd been following the cables correctly, Sharp, my best partner ever, was on the other side of that door.  
  
Sharp's body, anyway. Hard to tell from that crummy image.  
  
My squad hadn't caught up yet, and my heart was hammering in my ears. My hands were shaking, and the lock was doing its best to stay locked.   
  
***  
  
I realized that I was digging fingernails into Sharp's arm.  
  
"This is awful," said Asha, with feeling. "He's going to die!" The voice on the other end of the phone connection mumbled something reassuring.  
  
"Look at me!" I think I sounded panicked. "Sharp, I need you!" 


	27. Command voice

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
27. Command voice  
  
Red light through my eyelids, and the sound of a heartbeat matching the throbbing in my head. Breathing tracked pretty well with a variable-star flare of heat down one side of my ribs.   
  
At some point, I realized that I was alone. Just me, a concrete floor, and the smell of blood. I didn't want to open my eyes, because then I'd find out exactly how much. No one was adding any more pain – there was plenty already.  
  
Moving made things worse, which I hadn't thought possible.   
  
I was totally certain that I wasn't going to make it out of here on my own. They were going to come in for me, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.  
  
**  
  
Scuffed stainless steel doors. "No doorknob. I'm trapped. Can't get a grip. They're coming in for me, and there's nothing I can do. No handle. . ." My hands felt numb, but this was important.  
  
Something hit me, pushed me down, and sat on my chest. It took effort to breath.  
  
"Sharp!" Elle was silhouetted against the lights. "We're leaving, and I need your help."  
  
"Trapped in a box, Elle. They're going to kill us!" My voice had taken on an undignified high pitch.  
  
"Whatever's going on in your head has to wait, Sharp." She put a hand against my face. "I want the soldier now. We're a team."  
  
Manticore types would kill me for this, I realized. Complete and total panic.  
  
"You follow my orders," Elle continued, "without hesitation."  
  
"Yes." I decided things were coming into focus, but I could feel my hands shaking. "Ma'am."  
  
"Stay focused. We're going elevator surfing. I need your help with Asha." She climbed off, and pulled me to my feet. "Trust me, we're leaving. Stay with me."  
  
She pointed at the ceiling and smiled.   
  
So, I made a step for her with my hands, and she climbed to my shoulders and made one of the light fixtures slide sideways. She climbed through the opening into the darkness before I heard the sound of breaking glass below us.  
  
"This is awful," whimpered Asha into the cell phone. "You have to come quick, he's going to. . ." She shut off the phone in mid sentence, and looked at me with suspicion.  
  
"I'm okay," I said through clenched teeth. "Let's go."  
  
I lifted her into the empty space, and Elle pulled her up.  
  
Then I was through, and we looked for our next destination. The three elevators shared the same rectangular shaft. Concrete and steel structure rose up into the darkness over head, and down several levels into the basement. The light wasn't very good.  
  
The other two elevators were moving up, slowly.  
  
"That one, now!" Elle practically threw Asha to the left, onto the top of the other elevator. She followed with a cat's leap, and I caught a crossbar on the side as it rose past me.  
  
I glanced down to see the bottom of the elevator shaft moving further away, and decided that I'd better climb up before things got any crazier. Aching muscles complained, but I swung one heel up over a bracket, shifted my grip, and looked up to see Asha reaching for my hand.  
  
"Come on!"  
  
"Are you secure?" I imagined pulling her off the top of the elevator.  
  
It surged to a stop, but I had a pretty firm grip by this time. The paneling trembled from footsteps inside. People were getting out.  
  
Elle appeared next to Asha. "I've got it wedged here. C'mon up."  
  
It was quick work for me to climb onto the top. The ceiling was closer now.  
  
"Hey, the elevator we were in goes up to four."  
  
"You mean the roof," said Elle. "That's where we're going. You climb first, and give me your belt."  
  
"You got it." I only managed to rip off one belt loop in the process, while I planned my trip along the inside of the elevator shaft. I could reach out and touch the wall. Right 12 feet, up about 10. Steel I-beams to stand on for the trip sideways, then something that looked like water pipe to climb up.  
  
"Hurry!" Elle was latching my belt to hers and Asha's. I stepped onto the steel, then climbed.  
  
It was easy enough to get the roof-level doors open, and latched that way. The little room here was almost large enough to hold a card game in, and lit by a single fluorescent bulb. I ignored the other door. The "EXIT" sign hummed softly.  
  
I lay on the floor, and reached down over the edge of the doorway into the elevator shaft. Asha and Elle were inching across the I beam.  
  
Elle looked up, and tossed one end of the linked belts. "You first!"  
  
Asha hung on, Elle pushed, and I pulled. She looked a little pale, but had the sense to step away from the shaft and towards the exit door.  
  
I dropped the end of the belt down again, and Elle caught it and walked up the wall.  
  
The three of us burst through the door to the dark, wet roof top. The sound of rotor blades pounded against us. A white helicopter with red markings was hovering overhead, and the downdraft sprayed us with water and bits of gravel from the roofing.  
  
"You rock," said Elle, smiling at me. "Our ride is here."  
  
I noticed her fist heading for my jaw, but I couldn't figure out why, or what to do about it. 


	28. Ticket

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
28. Ticket  
  
Sharp went down like a sack of bricks, but I managed to keep him from smacking his head on the roof. His face was the total blank of the K.O., but he looked happier than he had in the elevator.   
  
I could hear the big military engines idling in the parking lot. Logan said there were troops in the building. My stomach twisted into a tighter knot.  
  
"Help me move him, Asha!" I tried to get my hands under Sharp's shoulders. Maybe the rain would keep her from noticing that I was crying.   
  
A spotlight from the helicopter caught us, and I squinted into it. Two men dashed out, their shapes made strange by the gear they were hauling. Medevac. They were looking for an accident victim, and the body was here.  
  
The first crouched next to Sharp's head, and put fingertips against his throat. Rain sheeted off the man's shaved scalp.  
  
"He's breathing," I pointed out. "No spinal injuries." Hurry.  
  
The man looked up at me. Red moustache, and one eyebrow lifted. "Hey, I'm the expert here."  
  
"We need to leave," I said, sincerely. "Those guys are about to set of lots of fireworks." I shrugged one shoulder to emphasize the military transports in the parking lot three floors below us. Hurry.  
  
His eyes followed my signal, and both eyebrows lifted. "What the . . .?"  
  
"They have orders to blow the building," I told him. Hurry.  
  
"Right." Muscles tightened in his jaw. "Let's load him." His partner looked pale, but the two of them lifted Sharp with a practiced efficiency.  
  
**  
  
I took off a sneaker, and used it to prop the door open. I hoped the rest of the team would recognize it if they ran by.  
  
He was here, and hadn't moved since I'd seen him on closed-circuit TV, about fifteen minutes ago. I made myself look around the bare, empty room before I knelt next to him and listened for breathing.   
  
"Sharp," I said softly in his ear, "don't go anywhere." I smelled blood, and I knew it was soaking into the knees of my jeans.  
  
"Can do." His eyes flicked open, and he offered me a quick, strained smile. Bruises were beginning to alter the shape and color of his face.  
  
"We're going to get you out of here. It's going to suck, but we're going home." Moving him was going to hurt, but Manticore doctors would heal whatever was wrong.  
  
**  
  
Forty-five seconds later, they were strapping Sharp down in the helo, and Asha and I were climbing in after them.  
  
"Jinx!" yelled the medic to the pilot, "Get out of here like they're shooting at you!"  
  
"Hot ell-zee! I love it!" The rotor noise grew deafening, and the ground rushed away from us. "Just like Iraq!"  
  
I crawled across the deck toward Sharp's head. When he came to, he was going to be . . . stressed. Xs don't like restraints, as a rule. Reminds us of our childhood.  
  
Bright light through the windows, and an almost simultaneous wash of noise, then the helo shuddered as the shockwave passed.   
  
"Yee-ha!" shouted the pilot. "What a ride!" 


	29. Ride

An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.  
  
Author: Chippewa Livingston  
  
Archive: Please ask  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.  
  
Chapter 29. Ride  
  
White light. Texan accent.  
  
The smell of burning hydrocarbons, with an overlay of latex and disinfectant, crawled up my nose. Vibrations in the airframe tracking into me, adding energy to injury, and taking it all to the level where I was going to scream. . .  
  
"Easy, kid," shouted a white shape at my shoulder. "You're going home. I figured I'd tell you before the drugs kicked in." Manticore insigna on his (her?) lapel. Home.  
  
The drugs rippled through me like cold syrup. The red haze in the helo flickered in the shadow of the rotors, and I felt light, and even calm.  
  
As my eyes closed, I got a glimpse of Elle.   
  
Rotor noise, and I felt like I'd been body-slammed. I was flat on my back, getting tossed with some very energetic evasive maneuvers. Military pilots don't seem to be bothered by stuff like that.  
  
"Can you hear me?" asked a voice next to my ear.  
  
I rolled my head to look at him, and he seemed to take that as a good sign.  
  
"Jack!" said Elle, and grabbed my ankle. Who is Jack?  
  
"I'm fine," I said. Elle's hands walked up my leg. "Let me up."  
  
"Not yet. You can't get off until we land anyway." He shrugged, and I still couldn't read the patch on his jacket.  
  
"Where are we going?" Elle tugged at my shirt, just above where my belt should have been. Her fingers brushed against my skin, and a piece of plastic went away. The microfilm. I guess my mission was accomplished.  
  
"We're about five minutes from the pad at Saint's. To pass the time, I want to start my evaluation checklist. Okay?" He grinned.  
  
"Uh, yeah, whatever." Asha's fast talking had gotten us a rescue helicopter, which I'd seen from the roof, just before everything went black.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
Sharp. No, not that name. "Jackson Messinger." That name. The one that matches the stuff in my wallet.  
  
"What day is it?"   
  
"Thursday." What time was it? The dark outside didn't give me any clue. "No, make that Friday. What happened to me?"  
  
"I was hoping you would tell me, Jackson. Who is President?"  
  
I wanted to figure out why my face hurt, and tried to lift my hand against the straps. It felt like the last time someone hit me.  
  
Oh, of course. If Elle said there was going to be a body. . .  
  
Soon, the skids crunched down onto the helo pad, and the engine nose wound down to almost bearable.  
  
"Jackson?" The medic shifted some buckles more tightly against me. "I know you want to get up and walk away, but it makes us look bad if you do that. Just sit tight, and let us do our thing. Okay?"  
  
"Fine." I had to admit to myself that getting up and moving on my own sounded like a lot of work, right now.  
  
So, I got rolled off the helicopter, and under bright lights. It took about 30 seconds for a an oriental woman in green scrubs to decide that I wasn't going to die immediately, and exchange a few words with the guys from the helo.  
  
I didn't listen in, because I could hear sirens, but couldn't see anything, considering that I was flat on my back, and surrounded by people.  
  
A moment later, they could hear sirens, too. The oriental woman pointed at someone, then at me, and said "fourteen."   
  
As the crowd dispersed, I caught a glimpse of the others. Asha looked like she was about ready to make a break for it, and Elle had an X-5's firm grip on the collar of Asha's white suit.  
  
Then I was rolling again.  
  
Fourteen turned out to be a little screened cubbyhole with a bed.  
  
"Just push the button if you need anything."  
  
I thought about that for a few minutes, and decided that I needed sleep more than anything else. The bed was softer than anything I'd been lying on for weeks, if not months, but the smell of disinfectant and other people's bodily fluids kept reminding me that this was a hospital.  
  
I wondered, for a few minutes, if I should go find Elle. We could leave, vanish into the night.  
  
Except that wasn't the normal, human thing to do. What was the normal human thing to do after you get knocked cold and rescued by helicopter from an exploding building? I was going to have to think about that for a while.  
  
I stared at the ceiling, but sleep wouldn't come.  
  
Far away down the hallways, I could hear sirens, and the voices of doctors and nurses trying to treat the unlucky people who hadn't been rescued from the explosion. 


End file.
